


Friends Like These

by XiuChen4Ever



Series: Like Cats and Dogs [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hate to Love, Hybrids, M/M, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22447822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/pseuds/XiuChen4Ever
Summary: Jongdae doesn’t care that Minseok is a cat.  Or that he seems to hate him.  Jongdae’s a friendlybeagle.  Everyone loves him.  And he’s sure that Minseok will, too.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Series: Like Cats and Dogs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695229
Comments: 36
Kudos: 241
Collections: EXZOO : First Exchange





	Friends Like These

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unnieunnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnieunnie/gifts).



> Dearest Unnie:
> 
> This idea has been floating around in my head for a while now, so when I read your prompt about liking to cuddle vs. being aloof I decided now was the time to finally write it down. Brought to you in part by my own disdainful cat, who rules the entire household and is very, very spoiled by her lowly servants.

# 🐶❤️😾

The first time Jongdae sees Minseok, he’s scowling. That doesn’t make him any less breathtakingly beautiful.

Sure, his blue-gray ears are flattened all the way into his fluffy, creamy-blond hair, his feathery blue-gray tail is lashing behind him irritably, the eyes that would turn out to be big and blue are narrowed to glinting slits, and his claws are digging into the handle of his blue floral-print suitcase.

He’s still gorgeous. The most stunningly attractive person Jongdae has ever seen.

“Hello, Minseok-hyung!” Jongdae barks excitedly. “I’m Jongdae! I can call you hyung, right? Let me take your coat. Do you want something to drink? Maybe some milk? Cats like milk, right?”

Minseok curls a lip and hisses.

Behind him, Lu Han laughs. “Minnie, don’t be so scared. Jongdae’s a good b… well. He’s a boy. He’s nice! He’s not going to hurt you.”

“I. Am not. _Scared,”_ Minseok states, a low growl behind each clipped word. “I. Am. _Irate.”_

He swats at Jongdae’s hand with a snarl when he tries to take his luggage. Jongdae thinks it might be best to stand behind Junmyeon and peek at Minseok around his sturdy human’s shoulder. Myeon isn’t very tall—Jongdae’s taller, even with floppy ears—but he’s in very good shape. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt Jongdae. Except that Minseok is well-built, too—the sleeveless hoodie he’s wearing makes that pretty clear—and Jongdae doesn’t want him to scratch Junmyeon, either. 

“You’re really handsome,” Jongdae says, hoping to keep all of his skin (and his human’s) intact.

“I. _Know.”_

Minseok gracefully toes off his shoes, getting them neatly in the rack the way Jongdae never quite manages to. Then he stomps off down the hall in his cute baby blue socks, pushing his cute wheelie suitcase, cute puffed-up tail slicing the air violently in his wake.

“Uh, the guest room’s the first door on your left,” Junmyeon calls after the Birman hybrid.

Minseok turns left and marches into the guest room. The door slams behind him, then another long hiss puffs through the door. The humans may not have heard it, but Jongdae’s floppy caramel ears certainly picked it up. He looks over at Myeon, enthusiasm swamped in favor of concern.

“That went well,” Lu Han says with a grin. “Here’s a list of his favorite foods, but don’t put yourself out fussing over him too much. He’ll come out and eat when he gets hungry enough, so just leave some kimbap in the fridge for him to resentfully swipe in the middle of the night or whatever.”

He hands Myeon a sheet of paper with “Minnie’s Menu” written at the top and hearts doodled all over it.

“Er, thanks,” Myeon says. “But are you sure he’ll be all right? He seemed… unhappy to be here.”

“Of course he is—he’s a cat. They prefer to be in their own space. But I’ll be gone for a month and I can’t take him with me—he’s terrible in the car, for one thing; he yells the whole time and he’d probably be even worse on a plane. Plus he’d have to be in quarantine for two weeks after we landed and he’d hate that even more. And like hell would he agree to go to a cat hotel and stay in a room that thousands of other cats had scent-marked before. So here we are! He’ll be fine—he’ll rub his face all over your guest room until it smells like him instead of Jongdae, and he’ll creep out whenever you’re not around to feed himself. He’s very tidy and independent, so don’t worry—you won’t even know he’s there.”

Jongdae will absolutely know he’s there. The Birman’s intriguing scent is already lodged in his brain. Beagles are scenthounds, after all, and though Jongdae’s as human as he is animal, certain traits still remain. There’s no way he’ll be able to get Minseok’s scent out of his head. He wants to press his face against him and inhale it deep into his lungs, but he also wants to keep his eyeballs. So he probably won’t do that. At least, not right away. 

He’ll make friends with Minseok first. Jongdae’s a friendly guy. Everyone loves him. Minseok will love him, too. He just has to get to know him, and then he’ll like him, and Jongdae can sniff him a little and it won’t be weird. Friends can totally sniff each other. Jongdae sniffs Myeon all the time.

The thought of being friends and sniffing Minseok has Jongdae’s thick caramel tail wagging behind him again, and he bounces out from behind Myeon to wiggle in front of Lu Han until he gets hugged.

“Have a safe trip, Lu Han-ge!” he yells.

“I will, DaeDae. Take care of Minnie for me while I’m gone, okay?”

“Okay!”

Jongdae will take the best care of Minseok. That’s what friends do, and Jongdae is determined to be friends.

# 🐶❤️😾

Minseok doesn’t come out of the guest room for two whole days. Jongdae knows, because he’s been sitting in the hallway outside his door the whole time, except for quick breaks to eat or use the bathroom. The guest room has its own attached bathroom, and Jongdae can hear the toilet flush occasionally and he’s heard the shower run twice, so he’s sure the Birman is still alive. But unless that suitcase was full of snacks (it wasn’t—Jongdae would have smelled any snacks), then Minseok is probably really hungry. And friends don’t let friends be hungry.

So Jongdae bounces into the living room. Junmyeon is watching TV, but this is more important. Jongdae stands right in front of the TV to be sure he has his human’s attention.

“Myeon-hyung! We need to make Minseok some fish.”

“Fish?”

“Yes! Cats like fish, right? Isn’t that on his menu sheet?”

“Among other things.”

“So, let’s make some for him.”

“How about we order something?” Junmyeon suggests. “Fried chicken is on his menu, too.”

Jongdae frowns. He likes fried chicken, but he wants Minseok to have the best thing for cats. But if it’s on his menu… 

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s order chicken.”

Keeping one ear cocked toward the guest room, Jongdae gets their nicest tray out, pours a nice big glass of milk, and sets it on the tray beside a pretty blue plate. He adds a set of chopsticks because cats probably like to keep their hands clean instead of eating with their fingers. He glances at Minseok’s door, then looks down at the tray. Minseok’s so _fancy._ Jongdae wants his dinner to be fancy, too.

He stops to listen at the front door—he _hates_ when delivery people sneak up on him—and then scampers over to Junmyeon’s desk. 

“What are you doing, Dae?”

“Making it fancy. And being friendly.”

He finds a pad of yellow star-shaped sticky notes and a bunch of random markers in the bottom of a drawer. He picks one that doesn’t stink too badly and uses it to write on the notes in his neatest printing. _You smell nice!_ goes on one note. _Please eat well!_ goes on another, and _Let’s be friends!_ goes on a third. He arranges them around the tray, nodding in satisfaction at how they look next to the blue plate. He finishes just in time to catch the ding of the elevator, so he’s waiting in front of the door, tail wagging wildly, when the delivery person rings the buzzer.

Jongdae throws the door open. “Thank you for bringing us food!” 

“You’re welcome, buddy,” the guy laughs, handing over the chicken. 

Jongdae trots into the kitchen with it as Junmyeon pays, arranging a drumstick, breast, and thigh neatly on the plate. He’s not sure which Minseok likes best so he figures giving a variety is the best way to go. It looks a little sparse for someone who hasn’t eaten anything in two days, so he adds another drumstick. Those are his own favorite, so he hopes Minseok likes them, too.

He adds some tidily-folded napkins, then carefully carries the tray down the hall to set it on the floor in front of the closed guest room door. Then he knocks softly, not wanting to startle the Birman.

“Minseok-hyung?”

There’s no answer, but Jongdae’s sure the aroma of the chicken has made it under the door.

“I fetched you some dinner. I’m just going to leave it out here on a tray for you and go away, okay?”

Still no answer, but Jongdae can’t even imagine being two days’ worth of hungry. He trots back down to the very end of the hall, parking himself just around the corner in the living room. He’s very still and quiet, waving Junmyeon away when he tries to offer Jongdae some of the chicken. He’ll eat when his friend does.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long. A few minutes after Junmyeon sits down on the sofa and resumes the paused show he was watching, Jongdae’s sensitive ears hear a tiny _click._ There’s a slight clink, like metal chopsticks might have been jostled against a glass of milk. Then a soft _clicky-thud_ tells him the guest room door is shut once again.

He peeks around the corner, and sure enough, the tray of food has disappeared. Grinning, he sits back against the wall, tail thumping on the hardwood beneath him.

Make friends with Minseok, stage one: Success.

Or maybe not. Jongdae’s still gently gnawing on his chicken bones—not biting them, Junmyeon always yells at him for that—when he hears the guest room door open and shut again. When he investigates, the tray has reappeared, chicken and milk gone. The sticky notes are still there, though, and at the bottom of the one that says _Let’s be friends!_ there’s a very clearly scratched _NO._

Jongdae’s ears droop, but he picks up the tray and takes it to the kitchen to wash up.

“Hey, he ate it!” Junmyeon cheers from the sofa.

“Yeah,” Jongdae says, tail wagging a little. He did at least eat it, and that’s important. Jongdae will keep being a good friend, even if Minseok doesn’t want to be friends back. Lu Han had asked him to take care of Minseok, and that’s what Jongdae’s going to do.

# 🐶❤️😾

The next morning, Jongdae checks Minseok’s list and decides to make him an eggbun. It’s not the steamed bun that’s listed, but it’s what Jongdae has ingredients for, and Junmyeon doesn’t like to wake up early on weekends. Jongdae usually just eats some fruity puffs on weekend mornings, but Minseok’s menu doesn’t list anything so basic. Minseok is a _fancy_ cat, so Jongdae’s making him the fanciest breakfast he knows how.

Just in case Minseok doesn’t like the eggbun, Jongdae puts another big glass of milk on the tray. He’d drunk all of that last evening, at least. He adds more star-shaped sticky notes, set on still being friendly. Minseok’s probably still grumpy about not getting to be in his own home. It can’t be anything against Jongdae himself, because Minseok’s barely even met him. He can’t possibly dislike Jongdae when he doesn’t even know him.

Today’s stars say _Good morning!_ and _I hope you rested well!_ and _It’s a beautiful day!_ He’d wanted to add _just like you_ to the last one, but the Birman clearly said he knew he was handsome already and Jongdae doesn’t want to annoy him by belaboring the point.

To make the tray even more fancy, Jongdae folds a piece of paper into a crane and sets it on the tray. Cranes lay eggs, too, so maybe it matches with the eggbun a little bit. It’s the only paper figure Jongdae knows, but if Minseok likes it, he’ll look up how to make other ones, too.

Again he sets the tray on the floor in front of the guest room and knocks softly. 

“Good morning, hyung! I made you some breakfast, and I’ll just leave it like I did yesterday, okay? Please eat well!”

Then he goes back around the corner to sit against the living room wall and listen. He smiles when he hears Minseok once again take the tray.

Jongdae’s halfway through his second bowl of fruity puffs when he hears the guest room door open and shut again. Abandoning his cereal, Jongdae goes to retrieve the tray, tail wagging at being a good cat caretaker. But his tail creeps between his legs when he sees what awaits him atop the empty plate.

His poor little paper crane has been completely shredded to ribbons. Except for the head and neck, still attached to the body with a strip of tattered paper, a pair of X’s scratched through where the eyes would be.

Jongdae gapes down at the horrific scene. He has the strangest urge to pee.

But he’s been housebroken for decades, so he doesn’t. He picks up the tray and takes it back to the kitchen, shaking his head sadly at the fate of his friendship offering. He sighs as he tips it into the paper recycling, but then he cocks his head at a sudden thought.

If Minseok destroyed it, that means he noticed it. And… played with it! Sure, it’s a violent kind of play, but Jongdae tears up his toys, sometimes, too. Sometimes he just gets too into it, tries to play songs with the different squeaky pitches, and when he figures one out he gets too excited and ends up ripping their heads clean off sometimes. But it’s not because he doesn’t like the toy.

Maybe Minseok shredded the toy to relieve some of his stress about having to stay away from his home. If that’s the case, then a good friend would give him another shreddable toy at dinner time.

So when Junmyeon finally wanders into the living room after half the morning is gone, he finds Jongdae in front of the laptop on the floor, surrounded by a school of paper fish.

“Hrrf?” Junmyeon says, rubbing an eye. 

His human’s pretty dopey until he wakes up fully, but Jongdae’s lived with Myeon since he was a pup and Myeon was just a kid. So he speaks fluent sleep-Myeon at this point.

“I’m making toys for Minseok,” he informs his human.

“Mrrn.”

“I know he probably brought his own toys with him, but it’s fun to have something new. And he likes to shred these, and that’s good for his stress.”

“Grrb.”

“I _am_ a good boy, but I never get tired of hearing you say it.”

He wags his tail at his sleepy human and gets a clumsy ear-rub in return as Junmyeon staggers off to make himself some coffee. Sometimes, Jongdae makes it for him, but today he has other priorities.

# 🐶❤️😾

Possibly thanks to Jongdae’s school of paper ones, Junmyeon agrees to have fish for dinner. Jongdae helps prepare it, wagging his tail the whole time at what a thoughtful friend he is. He makes up the prettiest tray yet with a glass of milk, a plate of pan-fried flatfish, nice and crispy and fragrant, and cute little bowls of side dishes, each attended by a colorful paper fish. 

“You should write that this meal is o-fish-ially delicious,” Junmyeon suggests when he sees Jongdae getting out the sticky notes.

“Myeon-hyung!” Jongdae groans. “I’m trying to get him to _like_ me.”

“Then you should definitely write little jokes. Everyone likes a guy with a sense of humor.”

“Not if it’s a _lame_ sense of humor,” Jongdae mumbles.

“Ouch,” Junmyeon says, but he’s laughing as he rubs Jongdae’s ears. 

Wearing half a smile, Jongdae contemplates his _Hope your day was pleasant!_ star note. Minseok’s day probably wasn’t pleasant. He probably just sat all hunkered in the guest room alone, being grumpy. Maybe Jongdae _should_ write him some dumb jokes. Then he’ll be annoyed and shred the paper fish and release some stress.

He ignores Junmyeon’s suggestion because _come on,_ Jongdae can do better than that. Instead, he sticks stars directly to three of the paper fish. One says _We think you’re fin-tastic!_ while another says _Come out and play—we’ll get along swimmingly!_ The last one, stuck to the biggest fish right in the middle of the tray, says _Go on—shred me, just for the halibut!_

Even Jongdae kind of wants to tear the fish up. Minseok won’t be able to resist.

This time after he sets the tray outside the door and knocks, Jongdae simply calls out, “Dinner, Minseok-hyung! Please eat well!” 

Then he retreats to his listening spot at the edge of the living room, holding his tail with both hands so it doesn’t thump against the floor and disrupt his hearing. He pointedly ignores Junmyeon’s teasing coo.

Minseok takes the tray in almost immediately this time, and Jongdae grins, figuring the smell of the cooking fish had probably whetted the cat’s appetite. 

He happily devours his own fish—Jongdae’s not a picky eater. As long as it’s not raw squid, he’ll eat it. Minseok eats all of his fish, too—and much to Jongdae’s delight, ejects the tray from the guest room with a pile of shredded paper over the empty plate. There’s an intact paper fish head on top of the pile, eyes scratched into X’s and the end dipped into the pepper sauce to leave it smeared with red.

Jongdae practically skips back to the kitchen with the tray. Junmyeon looks over at him fondly, but his smile contorts into a grimace when he sees what’s on the tray.

“Is that… a bloody fish head?”

“Yep!” Jongdae crows.

“And… we’re happy about this?”

“Minseok’s relieving his stress, Myeon-hyung! And he ate all his fish.”

“…Right. Shit like this is why I’m not a cat person.”

“Hyung, don’t say that! Minseok’s so beautiful. I want him to stay with us _always.”_

“Dae, you saw him for five whole minutes before he disappeared into the guest room.”

“And he was beautiful for all five of those minutes!” Jongdae insists. “If you could smell him, you’d understand.”

“I sometimes wish for your sense of hearing, but I have never once been jealous of your sense of smell. Especially on days when you eat broccoli.”

“Hyung!” Jongdae whines. “You know I can’t digest broccoli very well. If you don’t want me to eat it, you shouldn’t feed it to me.”

“Broccoli’s good for you,” Junmyeon dismisses. “Your health is worth a little stink from time to time.”

“Well, I’m not eating any broccoli while Minseok’s here. I want him to _like_ me.”

Junmyeon scratches Jongdae’s back. “Everyone loves you, Dae. You’re great—it’s impossible not to.”

Jongdae’s tail wags the whole time he’s washing up.

# 🐶❤️😾

The next morning, Jongdae makes breakfast for Minseok again, topping the eggbun with some paper songbirds. They’re shredded into very fine strips—Minseok’s claws must be really sharp.

The evening’s paper mice are mutilated before being tangled together into one chaotic mass of shreds and heads and tails. Jongdae shudders to see it, but then he smiles. Minseok must have had fun with that one.

The following day, Junmyeon has to go to work, so Jongdae can’t cook for Minseok until after he makes Myeon his coffee and listens to him fret about leaving the pair of hybrids alone together.

“I’m not going to bother him, hyung,” Jongdae states for what feels like the fortieth time. “I’ll do my studying like I always do, and if I want to practice the piano I’ll use my headphones.”

“Good boy,” Junmyeon finally says, handing Jongdae his empty coffee cup. “Call me if either of you need anything.”

“Yes, hyung,” Jongdae laughs, shutting the door behind his human. 

He listens for the electronic lock to engage properly, liking to feel secure in his home while his human is gone. He nods to himself when he hears the click. Then he jumps a little, because Minseok’s standing in the hallway when he turns around.

“Good morning,” Jongdae smiles, tail wagging tentatively. “Sorry your breakfast is late. Humans are so high maintenance, you know.”

Minseok says nothing, but he stalks over to the kitchen table and sits down. He turns those big blue eyes to Jongdae, lifting one creamy, angled brow expectantly.

“Right,” Jongdae says, hurrying to the fridge. “Uh. Eggbun okay again? Or I could try an omelet?”

Minseok only stares. Jongdae quickly breaks eye contact, rummaging in the fridge instead. “Looks like we don’t really have anything good to put in an omelet, so I guess I’ll stick with eggbuns. But if you want something else, just tell us, okay? So we can get stuff to make it for you.”

More staring from the Birman hybrid.

“Right,” Jongdae says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Eggbuns. Coming right up.”

He washes his hands extra well, self-conscious under Minseok’s gaze. Minseok stares at him the whole time he cooks, and when Jongdae sets the eggbun and a glass of milk in front of him, he starts eating without a word. Smiling, Jongdae sits down to eat his own eggbun, tail wagging gently behind him.

Jongdae expects Minseok to disappear into his room again when he’s finished eating, but he doesn’t. He just sits back and stares at Jongdae some more, so he takes Minseok’s plate and glass to wash up along with his own. Jongdae doesn’t love doing chores, but if he doesn’t do them—especially the laundry and the washing up—they would never get done. His human has a lot of good qualities, but tidiness isn’t one of them.

Minseok disappears from the kitchen while he’s washing, but Jongdae finds him on the living room sofa in a patch of sunlight, knees drawn up into his sweatshirt, hands nowhere to be seen, fluffy blue-gray tail wrapped primly around his feet. He continues to watch Jongdae from beneath half-flattened ears as he gets out his school stuff.

Jongdae wants to be a singer, encouraged by his human’s praise of his long, sustained high notes whenever they hit the karaoke rooms. It’s one of the reasons Jongdae adores his human, despite his untidiness and terrible sense of humor. Lots of beagle netizens complain about getting told to shut up or stop their howling, but instead of trying to stifle Jongdae’s need to be noisy, Junmyeon encourages him to channel it into beautiful directions. Why howl when he can sing instead?

But studying music involves a lot more than just singing. There are analyses to do, papers to write, lyrics to come up with. There’s history to learn and like a million different musical scales and Jongdae has to study all of them even if some of the minor keys make his ears twitch. He’s going to get good grades and be a good singer, even if those two things don’t always seem very related.

So he gets out his music theory book and his notebooks and sprawls belly-down on the floor, tail wagging a little whenever he remembers one of the concepts from last week without having to look it up. He takes careful notes about the new material, trying really hard not to pay too much attention to the cat staring at him from the sofa (though he does keep an ear cocked in that direction—he doesn’t want to be pounced on unless it’s clearly playtime).

Minseok is so quiet that at some point Jongdae slips from pretending not to notice him to actually forgetting he’s sitting there, so he startles embarrassingly hard when the Birman’s voice pierces the morning calm.

“I could have stayed at home,” he says. “By myself.”

Wincing a little after banging his knee against the hardwood, Jongdae sits up and nods. “You could have. But no one would be there to make you food.”

“I can make my _own_ food,” Minseok sneers. “More than just eggbuns.”

Jongdae feels his cheeks get a little hot, but he tries to keep his hackles down. Minseok had eaten all the eggbuns, so he must not hate them. It’s not Jongdae’s fault he’s grumpy.

“Well, we can have Myeon-hyung buy other things if you’d rather eat something else,” he says. “Anything that’ll cheer you up a little.”

Minseok glowers at him.

“Hey, I understand,” Jongdae says, hands lifted placatingly. “I’d be beside myself if Myeon-hyung went off and left me with strangers for a month. I mean, they wouldn’t be strangers for very long because I’m really friendly and cute—not that you’re not cute, you totally are super handsome, but you already know that—but it’s fine if you’re not very friendly. I’m still gonna be friendly to you.” He ends his little speech with a smile.

Minseok only scowls harder.

“I hate Lu Han,” he says. “I’m leaving hairballs in _all_ of his shoes.”

Jongdae laughs. “Good idea—he can’t leave the house at all if he can’t wear any of his shoes.”

“Or if I scratch the hell out of his pretty little face.”

Jongdae’s tail pauses mid-wag. “Uh. That’s… also a thought,” he says. He scoots over to his basket of toys, taking out a nice new lizard toy that he hasn’t torn up too much yet.

“Here—when I’m feeling really frustrated, I take it out on a toy. That way, nobody actually gets hurt.” He tosses the lizard to Minseok with a smile.

Minseok snags it out of the air with both hands, sinks his sharp little teeth into the head, and rakes at it with his feet. Cloth limbs and disemboweled stuffing go everywhere.

Jongdae’s ears go back and his tail clamps firmly against the seat of his sweatpants. “Wow. Uh. Feel any better?”

 _“No.”_ The word is half hiss as Minseok tucks himself back into an angry little ball.

“Well. Then… Let’s try something else. Do you want to draw something? Listen to music? We have one of those home karaoke setups—sometimes I like to get my feelings out that way.”

Minseok says nothing, but one of his ears twitches a little. Jongdae decides to take that for interest.

Closing his books, he starts setting up the karaoke system instead. Myeon makes way too much money for two people, so they end up with a lot of unnecessary toys. The human’s room is full of sci-fi collectable figurines, but he’d also gotten Jongdae a really fancy electronic keyboard and this top of the line karaoke system, so Jongdae tries not to complain too much about all the creepy droids and hairy aliens watching him from the shelves of his human’s messy room. At least Jongdae doesn’t have to sleep in there.

With the memory of the Birman’s wicked claws still fresh, Jongdae elects to toss the controller at Minseok once the setup is complete. As he’d hoped, the cat’s reflexes kick in and he shoots a hand out to catch it.

“There ya go,” Jongdae smiles. “This is a fancy-ass apartment complex so the soundproofing is really good. Feel free to turn it up and rock out if you want.”

Minseok doesn’t move. Well, his eyes move, flicking from the controller in his hand to Jongdae and back again.

Jongdae gathers up his books and gives Minseok an understanding smile. “I’ll just be studying in my room if you need me,” he says, then disappears into his den.

He doesn’t shut the door all the way, leaning against the wall and clutching his too-hopeful tail. He lets it go with a grin a moment later—Minseok’s started up some heavy metal screamo song. He’ll never hear Jongdae’s tail thumping against the floor.

# 🐶❤️😾

Minseok yells and yowls for about half an hour, then transitions into some weepy ballads about heartbreak and loneliness. Twenty minutes after that, he’s shifted to more traditional love songs full of longing and hope to see a distant lover.

Jongdae frowns down at his music history homework. Lu Han’s visited Junmyeon a bunch of times before. He’d never brought Minseok with him, even though Jongdae had asked about the interesting scent on his clothes. He’d claimed that Minseok was a homebody, preferred not to go out and socialize, that he’d certainly have brought him along if he’d have wanted to come. He’d never said anything about dating, and he’d never smelled actually _claimed._

Maybe Minseok wishes it were more?

Just then another song starts up, another loving lament, and Jongdae gets up from his bolster bed to shut his door the rest of the way. He doesn’t want to listen to the Birman pine over his human anymore.

Except that when he’s close to the door he can make out the words that Minseok’s actually singing, and he has to clutch his tail again while he swallows his laughter.

“Myyyyyyy dumb huuuumaaan, left me here! In this strange plaaaace! With a strange maaan and a weeeeird little _doooooog!_ Myyyyy id-i-ot huuuuman, that stu-u-pid moooron, deserves a case of jo-o-ock iiiiiiitch!”

Evidently, in the absence of songs that express his true feelings lyrically, Minseok is having to make do.

Jongdae leaves the door open, dragging his homework closer so he can enjoy the fanciful song interpretations as he memorizes names and dates and styles and signature works. He wonders what his instructors would say if he wrote down _Kim Minseok, screamo expressionist/emo balladeer, thrash metal/drinking song remixes, early 21st century_ for “influential modern vocalist.”

Jongdae only gets to enjoy Minseok’s creativity for another twenty minutes or so, the highlight of which is definitely a verse in which he details how he plans to punch Lu Han so hard, his kids will be born Super Saiyan, and concluding with the line “A bruised! Puddle of goo! Will be Lu Han’s fiiiinal fooooorm!”

But a few more songs after that, the living room falls silent. Jongdae creeps out to investigate and finds the Birman sprawled out on the sofa in the patch of sun made broader by the later hour, belly up, eyes closed, hands curled by his face, floofy tail twitching only occasionally. Smiling at their much more relaxed houseguest, Jongdae turns off the TV, leaving the karaoke system to be put away later and tiptoeing back to his room.

He again leaves the door open, and the guest room door is right across from his. Which means he is a startled witness, moments after he hears the first beep of the door code being keyed in, to a bleary-eyed, scrambling Birman Flintstoning it back into the room across the hall.

The front door and the guest room door thud shut in almost perfect unison.

“Honey, I’m hooome!” Junmyeon calls like he does every day, because he still thinks it’s hilarious after all these years. “I brought takeout! Hope you’re hungry for jjajang-me!”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he carries his newly-fashioned army of paper lizards to the kitchen to make up a tray for Minseok.

He almost drops the tray when Minseok’s door clicks open at his approach. His face breaks into what is probably a dopey smile as Minseok shyly takes the tray directly from his hands.

“Thanks, I guess,” the Birman almost whispers. “For the food. And… for earlier.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Jongdae says.

Minseok’s eyes narrow a bit. “We’re not friends. You’re a _dog.”_

And then the guest room door clicks shut.

Jongdae’s smile is entirely undimmed.

# 🐶❤️😾

The next morning, Minseok again emerges after Junmyeon heads off for work. He’s silent again during breakfast, but he eats the sausage and cheese omelet Jongdae makes for him readily enough. He slinks away again while Jongdae washes up, and Jongdae finds him grooming himself in the same patch of sunshine on the sofa. 

“Karaoke system’s still set up,” Jongdae says as he grabs his school stuff. “Just push the power button on the TV remote and the karaoke controller.”

He heads down the hallway to his room, jumping when he pivots to open the door and discovers Minseok has followed him. The Birman stands there in the hallway, ears up, tail slightly puffed, arms and legs spread slightly as if he’s ready to take flight at any moment.

“Uh. Going back to your room?”

He makes room for Minseok to pass him and enter the guest room, but the cat doesn’t move.

“Or maybe… do you want to see mine?”

Jongdae pushes his room door open wide, stepping inside to set his books down. “It’s not fancy, but I like to keep things simple. Easier to clean that way, and since I do all the cleaning…” He shrugs.

Minseok prowls up to the doorway, pausing to dart his gaze all around the room, blue-gray ears swiveling in his creamy-blond hair. 

His eyes keep returning to Jongdae’s bolster bed in the corner by the window, probably because of the broad patch of sunlight splashed across it. Minseok wrinkles his nose as he slowly enters the room, one ear fixed on Jongdae while his gaze is locked on the distorted diamond of sunlight atop the easy-wash fleece. He takes one silent step, then another, and then he’s curling up in the sunny patch, hands kneading at the warm fleece.

He scowls when he notices Jongdae watching him with a little smile. “What? This bed isn’t exposed out in the open, and it has the sun. I sleep wherever I want.”

“It’s fine—friends can share beds.”

“No,” Minseok states, fingers freezing in the fleece. “We’re not sharing—you stay over there. This is _my_ bed now.”

“Okay,” Jongdae says, because Minseok’s hair looks really pretty in the golden morning sunlight. He wags his tail a little to show he’s totally fine having his bed taken over by a handsome feline. If Minseok ever lets him use it again, it’s going to smell like the cat—it’ll be _so good_ to sniff.

Minseok narrows his eyes. “And we’re not friends. Dogs are disgusting.” He covers his nose with his tail and closes his eyes.

Jongdae has to hang on to his tail as he studies, because it wants to thump against the floor every time he looks up and sees the Birman snoozing in his bed.

He scurries back into the guest room again as soon as Junmyeon comes home, but he doesn’t close the door right away. He waits for Jongdae to bring him his tray of food, thanks him softly, and _then_ shuts the door with a firm thud.

Jongdae is delighted.

# 🐶❤️😾

This new routine persists for the next few days, much to Jongdae’s continuing enjoyment. He gets to glance over at a more and more relaxed Birman in his bed every time he looks up from studying, sitting on his tail to keep it chill even though Minseok goes from prickly ball to boneless pancake sooner and sooner each day, ending up sprawled out on his back with one knee hooked over the bolster and his fists bracketing his face. His lovely blue-gray tail twitches only sporadically, and sometimes his plump lips part a little bit, leaving a tiny drop of drool on the fleece beneath his face.

It’s adorable. And Jongdae’s bed smells _amazing._

And then one day Junmyeon comes home and calls out his cheesy line and Minseok doesn’t dart for the seclusion of his own room. He just yawns and stretches before pinning Jongdae with those mesmerizing blue eyes.

“I’m too comfortable to move,” he states. “Bring my food in here.”

Jongdae almost trips over his own feet in his haste to obey. His tail is still whipping hard against his hips even when Minseok takes the tray, then scowls in response to Jongdae’s smile.

“I’m not looking at a gross, disgusting dog while I eat. Go away.”

Jongdae’s tail thumps against the wall all the way down the hallway.

“What are you so happy about?” Junmyeon chuckles. “Senpai finally notice you?”

“Minseok is eating dinner in my room!”

“Aww, you won him over? It was the jokes, wasn’t it?” Junmyeon rubs Jongdae’s ears while he wiggles happily for a minute. “Here, let’s make you a tray, too—what are you doing out here with your boring old human?”

“Minseok prefers to eat alone,” Jongdae says. “Plus I like hanging out with you even if you’re boring. We can watch another episode of that drama your friend is in.”

“Wait, hold up,” Junmyeon says, brow furrowed. “Did that cat kick you out of your own room?”

“Yep!”

“And you’re thrilled about this?”

“Of course! I want him to be comfortable, and he is.”

“…I’m sooo not a cat person.” 

“Just as well,” Jongdae laughs. “Your room is way too messy. No cat would ever sleep in there.”

“Is that why you won’t sleep in there?”

“No, I told you—I don’t like that weird chewy-thing watching me while I sleep. You have like _six_ of them, Myeon-hyung, and they’re hella creepy.”

“You have no appreciation for gentle giants. Like poor Kris—”

“Do _not_ bring that terrifying klutz into my territory.”

“He’s the opposite of terrifying! You’re way scarier than he is—”

“Damn right.”

“—and he’s not _that_ clumsy.”

“Hyung, he’s stepped on my tail _twice!_ And my tail isn’t even that long!”

“…Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

# 🐶❤️😾

The next morning, Jongdae wakes up to see big fat snowflakes drifting gently outside his window.

“Hyung, snow!” Jongdae calls, rolling his eyes when he hears Junmyeon’s groan in response.

“Traffic will be terrible and the trains will be extra crowded,” he grumbles, jabbing angrily at the coffee machine. 

“Maybe not, hyung,” Jongdae says, stepping between his human and the coffee maker to rescue the innocent machine. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Maybe people will take the day off so they can spend an extra day skiing or snowboarding.”

Junmyeon straightens up. “Hey, yeah—maybe the trains will be empty. I might even get a seat.”

“See, there’s a bright side to everything,” Jongdae beams, presenting his human with a cup of coffee.

He waves Junmyeon out the door and turns back to the machine, coaxing it to make him a mocha. He’s always considered those like hot cocoa but for early mornings. And he’s almost used to the Birman appearing suddenly at the breakfast table, but the thing that Jongdae sees when he turns around is startling enough that he splashes a little of the mocha over his hand, making him yelp.

The thing at the table hisses in response to the sharp noise. Jongdae blinks at it as he licks the spill off his hand. It’s rather like all of the guest room blankets—and, more oddly, all of Jongdae’s—have come to life and shambled into the room.

“Minseok-hyung?” Jongdae calls softly. 

He gets another hiss in response.

Moving very slowly, Jongdae sets the mug of mocha on the table in front of the blanket-monster. He steps back, and a moment later, a sweater-paw emerges from the blankets to pull the cup inside. There’s a soft slurping, then a less-disgruntled hum.

Several more slurps later, a big blue eye appears between two blankets. “Breakfast,” the monster growls. _“Hot_ breakfast.”

“Yes, hyung,” Jongdae smiles. “Hot breakfast for the grumpy blanket monster, coming right up.”

The monster hisses again. Jongdae only laughs.

# 🐶❤️😾 

Once sufficiently full of hot breakfast and more mocha, the blanket monster follows Jongdae to his room. It flumps down into his bed, muttering an awful lot about the risk of freezing to death because there aren’t nearly enough blankets in this terrible place he’d been abandoned in.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jongdae says, swallowing a laugh. “I only have a couple because I’m always pretty warm.”

The pile of blankets stills. “You’re always warm?”

“Yeah.”

“Then get your gross dog ass over here. You will provide me with proper heat.”

“I’m supposed to be studying—”

“You’ll be studying your own intestines in a minute if you don’t get over here.”

Jongdae considers resisting, but only for a microsecond because who is he kidding? He’s not going to pass up a chance to actually touch the gorgeous Birman. So he crawls over to his bed, deciding it’s safest to just lie down on his back, arms bracketing his head. Actual beagles can’t resist the chase, but Jongdae’s human enough to know that sometimes it’s best to let one’s prey come to you.

And sure enough, a moment later he’s enveloped by blankets. A small hand is pressed against his T-shirt, there’s a whimpery moan, and then a whole torso is smashed up against his.

“Are all gross dogs so warm, or is it just you?”

“I don’t know,” Jongdae laughs. “Most of my dog friends tell me my chest is warm, though.”

“No. You aren’t allowed to warm up any gross dogs. Your heat is reserved for feline use only.”

“Okay, hyung,” Jongdae says amicably.

He gambles that if Minseok wants warmth, he’ll be fine with Jongdae’s arm draped around his shoulders beneath the blankets. Luckily, Minseok hums contentedly at being held close, rubbing his cheekbone over Jongdae’s pec a few times before settling his face against it. Moments later, a soft, rhythmic rumble flutters into Jongdae’s ears.

“Hyung, are you… purring?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Why would I purr? You’re gross.”

Minseok snuggles closer, so Jongdae hugs him a little tighter. The soft, rhythmic noise grows louder. Eyes closed beneath the layer of blankets, Jongdae inhales slowly and deeply, broad smile stretching over his face.

# 🐶❤️😾

The snow continues, which is fine with Jongdae. It’s pretty to watch, and he loves being Minseok’s personal heater. He does still have to study, so he brings his books to bed with them, lying on his stomach, torso propped up on his elbows a little while Minseok drapes himself over Jongdae’s back. There’s lots of mysterious rumbling that’s evidently _not_ any sort of purring, and Jongdae spends his days surrounded by the cat’s addicting scent.

Minseok doesn’t even react at all anymore when Junmyeon gets home from work. He insists Jongdae eat in the room with him “for warmth” even though they’re on opposite sides of Jongdae’s low table while they do so. And he even stops going back to his own room at night.

One morning, Jongdae wakes up to a strange sensation. Something rough and warm is dragging across his scalp. He cracks an eye open to see Minseok leaning over him, mysterious rumbling filling the air as the Birman swipes through Jongdae’s hair with a rather ungentle tongue.

“Are you grooming me, hyung?” Jongdae asks, still slightly sleep-addled.

“No. Shut up. You’re too gross to be close to. You don’t clean yourself properly.”

“Okay, hyung,” Jongdae smiles, letting his eyes drift shut. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Shut up,” Minseok mutters again, pinning Jongdae’s shoulder down with slightly-clawed fingers. “Dogs are so _gross.”_

The grooming is so rough as to almost hurt, Minseok’s tongue rasping too firmly against his ears and scalp, but Jongdae doesn’t complain. He’s almost proud when Minseok’s next hairball—left in the middle of the floor of Junmyeon’s bathroom for him to step on when stumbling blind to pee in the middle of the night, causing much excitement for the entire house—contains a large proportion of caramel and chocolate hairs in addition to the usual blue-gray and cream.

“Cats are so _gross,”_ Junmyeon complains. “Lu Han is going to owe me so much Hanwoo for dealing with this shit.”

“Oh, it’s just hair, you baby,” Jongdae laughs. “You come home from your boyfriend’s place with literal ass breath, so why you’re freaking out about a little stomach acid, I have no idea.”

“That—how—okay— _fine,”_ Junmyeon stammers while Jongdae and Minseok snicker. “You guys are part animal! Why are you judging me for doing the same thing you do?”

“I wouldn’t be caught _dead_ with my tongue near anyone’s ass,” Minseok states.

“Not even your own?” Junmyeon counters.

“You actually think we can reach our own? What do you think we are, circus contortionists with tails?”

“Yeah, don’t be ignorant, hyung.”

Junmyeon looks abashed and Jongdae hadn’t meant to shame his human that badly. So he gives Junmyeon a wicked smirk.

“I’d absolutely lick my own junk if I could reach it, though.”

He’s relieved when Myeon’s face breaks into a grin. “Oh, of course. Anyone who says they wouldn’t try it at least once is lying.”

Minseok curls a lip at both of them. “Why would I suck my own dick when I can easily get someone to do that _for_ me?” he sneers. He gives Jongdae an appraising look. “Cocksucking seems like the sort of thing a gross, drooling dog would be good at.”

He lifts a brow, then stalks back into Jongdae’s bedroom. Jongdae immediately follows. 

“Wait a minute, that pointy-eared asshole throws up on my bathroom floor and then gets his dick sucked while I’m stuck cleaning soggy half-digested hair from between my toes? _So not a cat person.”_

Jongdae really does love his human, so he tries really hard not to laugh until after he’s shut his bedroom door.

# 🐶❤️😾

The snow’s all melted a week later, but Minseok still spends most of the time pressed close against Jongdae’s side, not-purring steadily as he dozes or grooms Jongdae or kneads his ass with insistent little hands. This last is a sign that he’d like to be doing something else with Jongdae’s ass, just as when he casually interrupts Jongdae’s reading by shoving it in Jongdae’s face, he’d like Jongdae to be doing something with his.

More than once, Junmyeon has come home with unfortunate timing and proceeded to cover his eyes and screech loudly about what is and isn’t an appropriate living-room activity. This usually involves the hybrids rolling their eyes and retreating to Jongdae’s room to finish up said activity, but once had involved Jongdae’s knot, making it far simpler for the human to retreat to his room instead.

All too soon, Jongdae throws open the door one day in response to the buzzer, expecting pizza but getting a pretty Chinese man instead. 

“DaeDae!” Lu Han sings. “You’re still in one piece I see—no disfiguring facial scars, must not have been that bad.”

Minseok usually retreats to Jongdae’s room when the door buzzer rings, but now he’s jumping on Jongdae’s back, wrapping arms and legs around his torso as Jongdae staggers to catch his balance.

“I’m not going with you, you Barbie-faced ballsack,” Minseok growls from over Jongdae’s shoulder. “You abandoned me—I only have Jongdae now.” He follows this declaration with a spitting hiss.

Lu Han blinks. “Well. _This_ I did not expect.”

“Oh my _god,_ Lu Han—those two horny heathens have loudly defiled basically every surface in this place,” Junmyeon says, practically running from his bedroom to cling to Lu Han’s biceps. “Seriously, don’t sit _anywhere.”_

“Excuse you, we are _very_ hygienic in our mating habits,” Minseok huffs. “We’ve never left a mess.”

“Just the fact that I’ve _seen_ you fucking on my couch is enough to taint it for me,” Junmyeon shudders. “Lu Han, please take this rude guy away so I can go back to being sassed by only one person, being able to sleep at night without being awoken by unholy screeching, and not walking in to 19+ scenes in my own damn living room.”

“I’m not going,” Minseok says again. “This is my territory now, and heartless, neglectful assholes aren’t allowed in it.”

“But Minnie,” Lu Han sings. “I brought back all these out-of-print mangas. A bunch of them are—what’s it called again? Single Chunk?”

“One Piece?” Minseok gasps, breath puffing over Jongdae’s ear. He drops his legs to the floor, then tightens his arms around Jongdae’s torso. “I don’t care—This gross dog is _mine.”_

“He’ll still be yours even if you live in different places,” Lu Han soothes. “Don’t you want to renew all your scent marks in our apartment? And won’t it be nice to have a little time to yourself, and then, say, have Jongdae visit us this weekend?”

Minseok slides around Jongdae towards Lu Han, arm still around Jongdae’s waist, chewing his lip, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“I’ve loved having you here,” Jongdae says, nuzzling Minseok’s temple before flicking his tongue over it briefly. “But I know you missed your human. It’s fine to go with him—you probably have a lot of yelling at him to do.”

“So much yelling,” Minseok nods.

“And I’ll come visit, and you can come visit me. It’ll still be fun, hyung. I’ll still be yours.”

“Of course you will,” Minseok states. “You’re not allowed to be anyone else’s. Except a little bit Junmyeon’s, I guess.”

“Just a little bit?” Junmyeon protests.

“You’re lucky he let you have any at all,” Lu Han laughs. “C’mon, Minnie—go get your suitcase, I know it’s still perfectly packed. Swipe some of Jongdae’s clothes so you can complain loudly about how much he stinks yet refuse to wash them or even take them out of your bed.”

Minseok glares at his human. “I wouldn’t do that. Shut up.” He turns to Jongdae, tugging at the sweatshirt he’s wearing until Jongdae lets him pull it off over his head. “This is mine. I’m taking it so you have to come and get it. Shut _up!”_

He darts off to the guest room, comes out with his suitcase, then ducks into Jongdae’s room, coming out with his suitcase bulging. “Shut up,” he says to the three people still standing around the door, then grabs Jongdae’s face and pulls him in for a claiming, tongue-laden kiss.

“You’re still mine,” he states, rubbing his face aggressively against Jongdae’s bare chest and shoulders. “You’ll come this weekend.”

“I will,” Jongdae agrees, running his tongue over one of Minseok’s cheekbones.

“Ugh, dogs are disgusting,” Minseok complains, shoving him away. “Why do I even tolerate you?”

“I’m really lovable,” Jongdae states. “And I put up with all your tsundere nonsense.”

“I’m not. Shut up. I’ll see you this weekend. Bye.” Minseok stomps from the apartment toward the elevator.

“Bye, hyung!” Jongdae calls after him, waving when Minseok looks back over his shoulder just to roll his eyes.

“Thanks for letting him stay, Myeon,” Lu Han says, handing him a little envelope. “Sorry about your sofa—maybe this’ll help you get it steam-cleaned or something.”

“Eh, you didn’t have to do this,” Junmyeon protests. “I’m always happy to help out a friend.”

“Good, because I have to go back overseas in two months, for six weeks this time. Maybe Jongdae would enjoy having Minseok—”

“You’re doing _what?”_ Minseok yells from the elevator lobby. “No. _No!_ You don’t get to abandon me again. I haven’t even finished yelling at you for leaving me this time! I haven’t even started!”

Lu Han rolls his eyes. “Better go get this over with.” He ruffles Jongdae’s ears. “See you this weekend, DaeDae. Thanks for taking good care of my Minnie.”

“That’s what friends do,” Jongdae dismisses.

 _“For the last time, we aren’t friends!”_ Minseok bellows from the lobby. “I love you, idiot dog!”

Jongdae gasps, then grins wide enough to showcase all four canine teeth and several more besides. “Love you too, grumpy kitten!” he calls back, tail wagging furiously at the confession, however unorthodox.

He’s still grinning as he shuts the front door, but Junmyeon raises a brow as he takes in Jongdae’s bare torso, striped and spangled with scratches and claw marks accumulated over the last week and a half.

He shakes his head. “I will _never_ understand cat people.”

# 🐶❤️😾


End file.
